In my bed-room. Above are the sounds of a small pandemonium, apparently. Stamping, falling, shouting, bumping, crying. What a lot of them there must be!
There are! At supper—they appear to have early dinners, which I detest—three boys and one girl present, as a sample. Eldest a youth about ten, who puts out his tongue at me, when he thinks I'm not looking, and kicks his brothers beneath the table to make them cry, which they do. I begin to wonder when my real pupil will appear.
Governess talks to me as if I were a brother professional. Query—infra dig. again?
Children, being forbidden to talk in anything but French at meals, say nothing at all; at the end I am astounded at Materfamilias catching hold of the boy of ten, and bringing him round to me, with the remark,—
"Perhaps you'd like to talk to ERNIE about lessons."
Heavens! This nursery fledgling to be my pupil! And I am to be his "companion"! Fledgling, while standing in front of me for inspection, has the audacity to stretch out his leg, and trip up a little sister who is passing. Howls ensue.
A nicely-mannered youth!
"You will have to behave yourself with me, young man!" I warn him, in a tone which ought to abash him, but doesn't in the least.
"Ah, but perhaps you won't stay here long," is his rather able rejoinder. "Our Governesses never—"
"ERNIE!" shrieks his mother, threateningly. ERNIE stops; and I have time to regret my folly in not inquiring of the President the precise age of my promising disciple, very likely President didn't know himself.